Seasons Change
by IttyBittyTidbits
Summary: I'm putting Tomite in his past, and sort of allowing him to move in a familiar environment. Put short, I want to know why Tomite is who he is and why he acts as he is. Presents an OC, and yes, HIM. It's a two-part one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

SEASONS CHANGE

SEASONS CHANGE

Saika Mori

disclaimer: I don't own Fushigi Yuugi, but I do own this story…er, speculation. The only things Watase owns here is Tomite and the concept of his being. I didn't miss anything, did I? Review at the end. Thanks.

"_You seem very fond of Izumi."_

"_I am; is he yours?"_

"_Yes," the boy swung himself up the large horse. "I'm Chamuka."_

"_Tsuru," she offered, patting the beast's nose. "Are you going to ride with the men?"_

"_No. I'm taking Izumi out for the gallop I promised him two days ago. Would you like to come?"_

_She shook her head. "I don't ride. But have a nice trip, you two."_

That was only four years ago, but in that short time, Tsuru had become a lady: soft, white, and willowy, while he was still Chamuka, ever confused, still cocky. She used to care for all the horses in camp – her family was the official caretaker; but now that summer drew near, this task had almost been forgotten as mothers watched for the day when she would come of age. They were all raring for her hand – they and their sons. Her father met with an endless stream of matchmakers, and her mother constantly wondered about what to do with all the rich gifts.

Chamuka raised his eyes when he heard girlish laughs. The maidens were running over the grass, racing to get to the river. They were almost essentially similar – long dark hair loosely bound with strips of ribbon, white breezy dresses billowing behind them, rosy cheeks like that of a baby. They were not more than children, really, and it made it harder to imagine that in a few months or so, the red would be gone from their faces, the easy laughter replaced by the more sombre smiles of wives. Moreover, he hated to think of Tsuru as the property of another man. Inwardly, he was jealous, and outwardly told himself that she just would not be happy with a low-key domestic life.

He got up and tugged Izumi along, figuring that a thirsty horse would be the perfect excuse to approach the giggling, water-splattering females. Unfortunately, as he drew closer, he realized that his object was not there after all.

"Chamuka-san!' he sidestepped, but was not quick enough; the water doused him completely. "I'm terribly sorry," the culprit waded towards him, a penitent look on her face. The company had suddenly fallen silent, girls standing in guilty clusters.

"It's all right," he said, picking at his wet clothes. "I should have been more careful, anyway." Rubbing Izumi's back, "Could you tell me where Tsuru is? I've been meaning to see her."

"She's a little farther downstream," a little voice volunteered. "Tsuru-chan said she couldn't come and play today,"

He nodded his thanks and left.

"What are you doing here all yourself?"

Tsuru started at the sound and turned. Chamuka hopped down the large boulder and sat himself down beside her. She was all alone, perched on the smooth, flat river stones, feet dangling in the water. "I escaped a meeting," she told him carelessly. "Mama told me not to get wet, in case I return home and find a visitor waiting."

"Visitor?" he repeated.

She shrugged. "Matchmakers. Like I care; they're all the same…opportunists. I hate them." A dragonfly skipped away in panic as she fiercely kicked the water.

"Do you dislike them so much? Women will have to marry one day, Tsuru. You must be lucky to have so many after you. You're bound to find one you really like."

The girl grinned mischievously. "If you're so keen on marriage, there must be someone on you mind. Are you taking a bride soon? Is it Fuyu?"

Chamuka blushed hotly, a vehement "No!" issuing from his lips. "I'm sure Fuyu won't have me. She had set her eyes on the tribe's best warrior."

As he said this, his friend noticed a trace of wistfulness, and could not but feel sorry that she teased him so. After all, although he could be deadly when the need arose, Chamuka's happy-go-lucky nature marked him off as the tribe's mascot. "You're not interested in Fuyu-san?" she wanted to know. Fuyu was the chieftain's only child and daughter, spoilt to the core.

"No," he replied again, but slowly. Tsuru now knew that he wouldn't object to knowing that the girl liked him, even just a little.

"Well," she stared up at the glowing sky. "I have to return home soon. If you came looking, you must want to talk about something. What is it?"

"I just wanted to see you before you got married, that's all," he stated simply.

She laughed. "Don't be silly. I won't be doing that soon." Getting up, she climbed over the rocks to the other side, graceful and agile as a cat. She waited for Chamuka to clamber up after her. "It's been a while since we last talked. Walk me home?"

_Water. The silence was overwhelming, only the fluid movement thundering in his ears. There was blackness, and a splash of red. With a jolt he realized that he was underwater, and was drowning. Desperately he tried to push himself up, but the effort was in vain. He panicked. The water reddened, and he felt himself weakened by a sickening notion that his blood caused the crimson stains. _

"_Tomite."_

_Suddenly, he was on his back and was floating, drifting along like a blade of reed. His body was limp, making him feel as if the only thing that remained alive was his mind. Gaze riveted to the figure standing above him, all the lonely feelings he had harboured came rushing back. There was the childhood of always trying to be accepted, the boyhood of learning how to hunt, and eventually becoming recognized as the tribe's best archer. _

"_Leave your friends and come find me."_

_Friends? When was the last time he remembered having real friends? Playmates abounded, but they did not count because they only wanted him in the game to pick on. There was no one he confided in, no one he trusted his emotions to, not even Tsuru._

"_I have no friends," he said to himself in awe, like a young child finding out for the first time that the warm, comforting flame could bum and hurt.. Loneliness filled him as he looked into her melancholic eyes, as if a hidden chamber had suddenly opened, only to reveal a vast, echoing, emptiness._

_For one so alone, her voice sounded unusually nonchalant, not unlike a person's who had never known companionship in her life. A small smile even played about her lips as she whispered, "I don't, either."_

He had broken out in cold sweat. What was that he just dreamt of? More importantly, what was that the woman just called him? Tomite. Where had he heard that name before? Chamuka pushed away the blankets; they had become so stifling, and he wanted a little cool air.

"Tomite," he mumbled to himself. "Tomite."

His entire family was asleep, and even the camp was silent. A smouldering twig broke in the dying embers. Outside, bonfires roared and wolves howled. He shuddered, remembering the last time he heard those ominous wailings. A trail of blood was found the morning right after, crimson against the freshly fallen snow. They had trailed it deep into the forest and had arrived at a wolf's den. Half-grown cubs chewed at bloody limbs, while the parents ravaged at what remained of a child from their tribe. He did not want to remember the faces of the family members as the father lit the funeral pyre. The mother…

Chamuka laid an arm over his eyes. He did not have to remember if he disliked it so much, but the howling reverberated in his ears, and the sight of the body refused to be erased from his memory. _If I had been more responsible,_ he thought to himself, squeezing his eyelids shut, _they might have allowed me to help out with the night duties, and the tragedy perhaps did not have to happen. _The humidity pressed down on him even more. He tossed, trying to block the image from his mind. Finally he crawled out of the tent and stumbled downhill towards the riverbank. He splashed his face with the cold water.

A full, white moon glimmered on the surface of the water, the reflection broken only by an occasional ripple from the droplets falling from his drawn face. Chamuka gasped, savouring the air as it rushed to his lungs. He was bent over the water, panting, willing himself to calm down. He could not see his oppressor, he reasoned, so there must be none. He was among his own people, so he could not be alone. But why did the strange woman's words echo in his head? And then there was that nagging feeling he simply couldn't shake off…all that…emptiness. There could be no other word to describe it: a vague, all-encompassing, devouring emptiness.

"Are you following them to the hunt?"

Now, in the midst of people, Tsuru had suddenly become shy. She held a basket of berries and waited, watching Chamuka saddle Izumi. Dawn had just broken, but people were already gathered outside, hunters sharpening weapons, family members wishing them to be careful. Even the smallest children were up, running to and from one horse to another, curiously studying arrowheads, spears, and blades.

It was the first hunt of the year, when young men first exhibited their skill. For many matchmakers, it was a chance to show off their clients' charms, especially because the ladies always came to welcome them back home.

Chamuka counted his arrows and carefully strung the bow. Despite the evening of unrest, he was raring to ride into the woods. "Of course," he replied, loosely grasping the reins. "Is there anything you'd like me to bring back?"

Tsuru took a step closer, giving him her most pleading smile. "A white bunny. Bring it back alive."

He raised his eyebrows and fastened the quiver onto the saddle. "Imagine how I'd look, unable to kill a little bunny."

"All the more reason for them to say that you're compassionate." She hurried him up his mount. "That's a good thing."

He wasn't able to retort, for the hunters had already gathered, and would be leaving at any moment. Tsuru patted Izumi, who promptly trotted away. Chamuka swivelled around to yell, "Are you serious?" only to have accidentally tightened his ankles against the horse's flanks. It began to run, and he had to grab the reins or risk the embarrassment of being thrown off. Even though she became smaller as he rode on farther, Chamuka could still be certain that Tsuru was giggling.

The closer they came to the edge of the forest, the more excited he became. Game ran loose, darting in and out of the bushes. Even the most uncertain novices were grinning ear-to-ear, fairly certain that they would catch something. Then they began to be split up into small teams, and Chamuka was annoyed to note that the youngest, weakest hunters were assigned to him. Well, he would show then how it was done. He led on, trotting deeper into the woods.

They took a footpath upon reaching a more densely packed area. It was necessary to be quiet, and a horse's hooves would easily be heard. Creeping silently, he made a small, barely visible pathway of flattened grass to help his less experienced companions find their way. Just a little ahead, a small group of deer tensely stood, listening for sounds of approach. A few yards away, a grey wolf crouched low, stalking the same prey.

Chamuka signalled for his companions to lie low. He would shoot at the deer, while a couple others would watch for the wolf. They had understood each other. Then, as silently as possible, he nocked an arrow, aimed, and let it loose. It whizzed straight through the air and into the animal's heart. The beast uttered a cry, shuddered then fell dead.

A low growl permeated the air, and Chamuka let his eyes wander over to where the wolf now stood, tense and ready to pounce. It had spotted them, and was now baring its yellow fangs, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. Shaking in fear, one of his companions loosened an arrow; only to have it graze at the beast's ear. The growling intensified and in an instant, the source was on the archer who had injured it. The younger hunters slowly backed away, instincts frozen in terror.

Almost compulsively, Chamuka lunged at the animal, driving a dagger into its side. Forgetting its first victim, the wolf turned on him, sinking its teeth onto his shoulder, ripping out flesh and cloth as it jumped away, still glaring at its second attacker.

The injured man staggered, watching the life drain out of his opponent. The first boy had only sustained scratches and a shallow bite, and was being helped up by his companions. He turned his attention back to his adversary, readying himself to strike again in case it attempted to tackle him. It was still up, breathing heavily, mouth reddened by blood. His blood. A howl erupted from a more distant part of the forest, and was joined by the injured one before finally slumping in death.

It was a while before anyone reacted. Chamuka fell onto his knees, light-headed from all the blood lost. Izumi was brought in, and he was helped to mount. An older boy mounted on another horse, taking the reins of both their beasts. Chamuka briefly gave instructions before cantering back to the settlement. It was a most troubling ride, especially when one was hurt and it conscious of warm fluid streaming down one's arm.

Tsuru screamed when she saw him, and appropriately did so too, for he was half-dead by the time they managed to return to camp. She clamped her hands over her mouth and followed him with wide-eyed horror as he was assisted into the herbalist's tent.

Chamuka was numb, almost delirious, unconscious and far from knowing pain. People had crowded around the medicine man's tent, some interrogating the boy who had brought him back. The story of the wolf proved true when, only a few minutes after Chamuka's return, the first boy appeared with a companion. "Riding" would be a term used in its loosest sense here, for although he was atop the horse, he was incapacitated by convulsions. The wolf was slung behind him, dead and foaming at the mouth.

_He was in that vast blackness again, water trickling all around him. The woman was nowhere to be seen; and thinking like one who has had too much morphine, he happily, and incorrectly, supposed that she had business to attend to._

_Mind still whirling in a mad, inexplicable ecstasy, he looked upward and saw a million stars glittering in the inky blackness._

"Pretty," he murmured, stupidly smiling to himself. But as he reached out to grab one…

"Tomite." The name sent a bolt of electricity running through his body. Chamuka's eyes flew open, and ever so slowly, he registered that he was in the herbalist's tent. His bandaged shoulder throbbed, and from around him, grief, awe, and uncertainty were painted on the faces of the onlookers.

"Are you all right?" Tsuru was kneeling beside his pallet. He thought she was going to reach out and touch him, but the delicate white hands remained tightly clasped against her chest. In a trembling voice, she went on, "The wolf you killed was highly rabid…" and then seemed unable to speak.

"What's going on?" he asked, unsure why everyone had suddenly fallen silent. "Was anyone else hurt?" He pushed himself up to a sitting position, highly bewildered when no one replied. "Am I missing a limb? An eye? A…" he trailed into desperate thought. "…a body part!" There. He finally spat it out.

An ancient elder came and placed his gnarled, old hands on Chamuka's head as if in benediction, and very slowly, very solemnly, said, "We welcome you, shichi seishi Tomite."

That name again. But instead of demanding an explanation, Chamuka meekly nodded. He finally remembered where he had first heard the name. Tomite was one of the guardians of the Priestess of Genbu; the legend, initially seen as a prophecy, had been retold by traveling storytellers for hundreds of years, and had presently become only a favourite tale. He had not expected it to be slapped in his face so suddenly, but admitted that there was indeed a strange comfort about it. Here was somewhere he belonged, somewhere he was wanted. His new name had a familiar ring to it.

"Tomite, huh?" It seemed to describe all that he was.

Hi guys! How did you like it? This is only the first part of a two-part one-shot…I'm not even sure if that exists, but anyway! If I got you interested, don't dally and go on to the next chapter, or maybe leave a review, and then some more, and then even more… 


	2. Chapter 1 continued

SEASONS CHANGE

SEASONS CHANGE

Saika Mori

disclaimer is not necessary because this is part two of a one-shot. I know, it's a crazy concept, but what the heck?

Being recognized as a seishi obviously had its quirks; but it had pitfalls as well. Chamuka, now Tomite, had learned to take the good with the bad. For instance, there was the 'Everyone's-so-scared-of-me' thing, which was soon followed by 'Chamuka-Tomite-can-protect-us'. Even Fuyu had gotten into the act, abandoning all her schemes to marry the best warrior: she was all for Tomite now. Then there was the thing about girl's stopping to watch when he passed by. It was at first unnerving, but he soon got used to ignoring the unwonted attention. Nevertheless, however much he was worshipped by his fellow men, there was still that ever-nagging problem: serious want of a love life.

Tsuru had grown more distant ever since he was discovered to be Tomite. She no longer volunteered to begin a conversation, which had never happened before. In fact, she and Tomite barely ever talked anymore. When duty threw them together, she avoided meeting his eyes, and he had to go through so much trouble just to extract a sentence from her. She willingly attended meetings with matchmakers, and made no secret of her many suitors. Tomite felt discarded, unwanted. From being the only male she was friendly with, he was now the male she was least friendly with. He couldn't figure her out.

Towards the beginning of autumn, talk began to come up regarding Tsuru's marriage. She was said to have agreed to the proposal of a suitor, and the event was to be celebrated near the autumn festival. Tomite was restless when he heard this, and wished he hadn't said anything that became as prophetic as meeting her for the last time before she married, because that summer day was certainly the last time they spoke so intimately together.

For about a week, he deliberated about what to do to keep her unmarried. After saying the women generally took husbands, the contra-action he was planning would render him inconsistent. However, it was even more important to keep her a maiden, so he shut his mind to others' opinions and began to think.

"Tsuru!"

The answer had not come to him yet, but he was fairly certain about his plan to let the wind carry him where it will. He was driven by impulse, and placed his future on it. There could be no plan B.

She was going to gather clean laundry and took a step back upon his approach, breathlessly saying his name, his real name. "I –", she stammered, correcting herself. I meant Tomite, not… not…"

"Can I help you with that?" he gestured towards the basket of laundry and offered a tentative smile.

"I'm fine," she replied, briskly and almost wildly, flouncing away before he could insist.

Tomite walked along beside her. They were headed towards the river. There was a tense, awkward silence between them, the rush of the stream the only sound. "We haven't spoken in a while," he began.

"I hope your shoulder's fine," she said rather crisply. "It was a serious injury. But you seem to be doing well…no symptoms."

He knew she was alluding to the boy who had contracted rabies from the wolf bite and died a week later. Personal disgust wrenched at him. He was silent for a while, then very softly said, "One might call it luck."

"Or divine intervention," she muttered spitefully.

Tomite walked to her side. She was pulling out random sheets, not really seeing what they were. "Tsuru, do you not think that perhaps you've…changed?"

"Why, look who's talking," she straightened up, hands on her hips. "Mister I'm-a-Genbu-seishi-look-at-me!"

He winced, thought he understood what she was getting at, and sighed in relief. She was upset, and at him, but he didn't even care. Somehow, it just wasn't the most important thing anymore. "I heard you were getting married after the festival."

"What's that to you?"

He caught at her hand before she could grab another piece of laundry. A blanket fell between them. "Marry me!"

Tsuru stared at him, then laughed uncertainly. "You can't be serious." He pressed her hand tighter, and she lowered her eyes. "No; I can't. Chamuka's gone…I can't have you –"

"I _am_ Chamuka!" Tomite shook her shoulders. "Look at me! We're one!"

Tsuru sobbed and shook her head. "Chamuka was a boy…he can't be Tomite. It's just…"

Chamuka was a boy and Tomite a man. He looked down at her and let her hands drop. "But he…he was never there to begin with. He was a personality – a prelude to his real self. Tomite is…"

She wiped her eyes sheepishly. "Let's stop this nonsense, now, shall we? It's not going to bring us anywhere."

"Will you never consider?"

She looked up from her basket, and just for a moment their eyes met. Tsuru turned away. "No, Tomite," She pronounced his real name with a little difficulty. "I don't think I ever shall."

"Tomite!" Takiko's voice sounded as if it could topple a mountain. And just to annoy, she pronounced the last syllable of his name especially long and whiny. "It's time to goooo!" Rimudo, who was nearest to her, looked about ready to collapse.

They came upon his tribe a few days back and decided that they all needed a rest. They had gone a long way from Toran, and there were a couple more warriors to collect. The tribe had been skeptical about the veracity of Takiko's claim to be the priestess, but they did indeed look a like a strange bunch. It had almost been a year since he left, but he was still recognized as the Chamuka they grew up with, who eventually became the seishi Tomite.

Everyone came to see the miko, even Fuyu, who was cradling a baby. Questions were thrown their way, and he barely had the chance to ask after them. But when the opportunity came, Tomite grabbed it. The conventional questions could be saved for later; he wanted to know how Tsuru was.

Fuyu, who used to be the girl's greatest rival, sadly shook her head. Tsuru had married Same shortly after he left, later delivered a blue baby, and died of a broken heart. Tomite expected to feel a painful twang, the sad sound of nostalgia gone wrong.

"I'm sorry," he had murmured, and was truly so. He felt guilty about his indifference, but really couldn't do anything about it but apologize. When he caught Takiko looking, he distinctly remembered the large sorrowful eyes of the woman in his dream.

He grinned, said his farewells. Takiko was still violently waving her arm, and he wondered that it hadn't come off yet. He mounted behind her and urged the horse to a canter. The cold wind bit at his face.

"Tomite, you look scary," the priestess said, twisting in her seat to look at him. "There's something about your face today…" her eyes narrowed. "Are you planning something?"

He chuckled mischievously.

"I don't ride with Rimudo because he goes too fast," she warned. "I hope you know that."

"Perfectly." He spurred his horse and had the pleasure of hearing her squeal when the animal shot forward. He laughed; it had an almost maniacal quality to it. "Careful you don't fall off, miko-sama!"

"Shut up if you're only trying to be sarcastic!" The horse gave another lurch forward. "Rimudo!"

Hooves thundered behind them, and Tomite gleefully listened to Rimudo hurl random threats at him through gritted teeth. The other man rode closer, but was never able to grab the reins. Leaning forward, he caught a whiff of Takiko's pine-scented hair as the silken strands fluttered against his face.

He was home.

--owari--

How did you like it guys? That was a random one-shot written when I was very bored, but inspired to write something...ANYTHING!

For comments and suggestions, please click the review button below and type out a few sentences. It won't hurt…promise!


End file.
